Snowmelt
by Lamia-Kuei
Summary: He's mean, dangerous, and a stone cold killer. The Council have him brought in on the recommendation of his more alert Spectre peers. Nobody but the human Spectre steps forward to be his watcher. Nobody, least of all Saren, ever expected to discover that in the care of that human, he just melts into a puddle of purring contentment. kmeme fill.
1. Chapter 1

Saren Arterius was put under house arrest on the judgment of the Council. It happened like this: fellow Spectres began to submit anonymous letters detailing his escalating instability and ruthlessness that made subsequent Spectre actions difficult. Coming behind him to pick up the pieces, to gather intel, to make some headway with their own separate missions was an ordeal with his scorched earth tactics.

The Council was loathe to take action. But those letters continued to accumulate, insinuating that he was on the verge of actually entering the underworld of crime syndicates and networks not in the name of mission success for the Council, but for his own gain. That threat was too much for the Council; they would not be responsible for the transformation of one of their own into a crimelord.

He was summoned. He was told in the presence of other Spectres, many attending in person in the Council chambers or watching over live vidfeed, that he was no longer free to leave Citadel space. His ship and files were seized for investigation and everything was open for selected C-Sec and Spectre analysts to go through.

Nihlus thought to himself that Saren's composure during that stage of the tribunal was admirable.

That would be because Saren was turning his head, surveying the other Spectres in audience.

"He's making a list," Nihlus whispered. "Marking targets."

"That just makes him appear definitely unhinged," Shepard murmured back.

Nihlus could only agree.

The Council spoke on. He needed a watcher from amongst the Spectres. Certain individuals were already excused from the duty. One must step forward.

Nihlus shook his head when Saren looked at him. No past or current apprentices could be in such a position. They both knew it. It was bittersweet that it took a Council tribunal to have Saren looking for his help.

"I'll do it," Shepard stood up.

It did not escape anybody that now Saren's mandibles flared and he looked with undisguised loathing at her.

The Councilors conferred. She was a student of a student. Would that be far enough away from potential influence? On the other hand, he clearly would have no past dealings with her, considering his reputation for hating humans. They asked the assembled Spectres if Shepard met with their approval for the duty of particular watcher of Saren Arterius.

There was an ominous drag of a pause. It spoke of doubt in the new Spectre's ability to handle Saren.

"I have no reservations on her ability," Nihlus announced.

Saren looked away.

Nihlus' confidence in her was enough. The Councilors closed the tribunal. Shepard and Nihlus remained behind and were shown to the safehouse where Saren and Shepard would reside. They began to investigate the facility. It would be futile to remove absolutely everything that could be used as a weapon. Saren was good. But then, so was Shepard. In a bid to make her duty easier, Nihlus began to speak of Saren, of his waking habits, his likes (few) and dislikes (many). She took particular note about how he took his kava. Every little bit was useful.

"This place is nice," she concluded at the end of their walkthrough. "Too bad I'm sharing it with Mr. Sunshine."

Nihlus laughed and agreed.

There was a solarium, a workout room, the kitchen was nicely stocked, and the shared bathroom had a built in hot tub.

"Do you think Saren is... guilty?" Shepard asked. "Crossed the line?"

"... I hope not," Nihlus sighed. "I hope that in the end it's just political maneuvering on the part of the others. But for as long as I've known him, he does what few dare. And because of that, it is easy to think that of him."

Saren himself arrived, with his handlers. He ignored Nihlus. He was glaring at Shepard.

Nihlus went out the front door, it slid shut behind him, the lock indicators blinked red, and he stood to wait.

Saren's opening move was a shockwave. Shepard already had a corona of power flashing to the fore and she caught it. To his surprise, she tangled her energies around it and spun, whipping that shockwave right back at him. He leaped clear and the power slammed into a wall.

This place had the power to withstand holding powerful asari. The wall shuddered, but held.

He lashed out again with a reave and she repeated that strange technique that he had never encountered before, bending and rebounding the attack back at him. He hissed and closed the distance, striking out with outreached claws. She dodged and now they were trading blows augmented with biotic power. Each hit and block zapped with clashing energies.

Was it ten minutes? Fifteen?

Shepard's corona flashed bright once more and to Saren's horror, he felt it enveloping his own field. He flared it out but she covered him with a multitude of pinpricking anchors and lifted him bodily up. Instead of slamming him down on the floor, she kept him in the air.

"You. Are going to stop your little tantrum right now," she said.

Saren snarled and sent out an omnidirectional blast of power. Shepard took it fully, her feet sliding backwards on the floor, as she kept her hold on him absolute.

"Come. The fuck. ON," Shepard shouted.

"NO!"

He expelled another blast. In the moment that he had to catch his breath and his amp seared with warning, Shepard responded with a squeeze over the entirety of his body. Saren had no idea how long he fought that terrible alien biotic vise grip. He blacked out.

When he woke, Nihlus was sitting beside him on the floor. He held out a plate of steak. It smelled wonderful. Saren snarled.

"Come on," Nihlus said patiently. "Cooperate."

Saren could see Shepard sitting at the dining table, eating to recoup her own energy reserves. He snarled again, but took the plate from Nihlus in the end.

Nihlus stood. Saren remained sitting on the floor. Nihlus made an exasperated mandible flick, looking between the two of them before choosing to go stand beside Shepard. When Saren was done with his steak, he wordlessly stood up and stalked to the kitchen, out of sight, where Nihlus had cooked another steak for him.

"He's in a solid sulk now," Nihlus whispered.

"Big baby," Shepard whispered back.

"This won't be the end of it."

Shepard cracked her knuckles.

"I'm counting on it."

Nihlus finally left. Saren went to his room. Shepard pulled up a catalog of books available within the limited network of the safehouse, chose a book, and went to her room to read until she fell asleep.

The next morning, breakfast had uncomfortable tension. Shepard decided to kill time by taking a long shower. Saren stretched out in the solarium. When Shepard saw him, she had to restrain herself from audibly laughing. Turians loved sunning, yet Saren was the only one she had ever seen who could maintain a disgruntled expression while doing so.

She made her way to the workout room and got onto a treadmill. She was ten minutes into her jog when Saren made an appearance. She felt him watching her. Without a word, he went to the treadmill next to hers and began at the same pace.

If he never says another word, that wouldn't be so bad, she thought. Creepy, but hey, she can play the Silent Game.

They went, side by side, until Shepard switched to a slower pace to begin her cool down.

"Tired?"

Shepard looked at him. He was sneering at her.

Oh. Okay. Cantankerous ass. She switched back to jogging pace and looked straight ahead, her steps sure. It is so on.

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

Less than a full day, Nihlus sighed to himself. Honestly.

He had to rush back to the safehouse because Shepard contacted him on the emergency frequency with barely controlled panic.

He found Saren on the floor, gasping like he was dying, not helped by the enraged rattling from his subvocals as he struggled to rise. Shepard in her initial call said that he collapsed, that all of his body failed at once and the treadmill sent him backwards onto the floor. Nihlus set about retrieving the first aid kit and put a mask for oxygen on Saren's face.

"Stop moving," he put a hand on Saren's shoulder.

"We were competing," Shepard explained. "It's been over an hour, I think."

"Spirits, Saren, what is WRONG with you!?" Nihlus burst out.

Shepard shifted from one foot to another.

"Contact the medics?"

"No," Nihlus shook his head.

"Why-"

"You KNOW we can't compete on endurance with humans!" Nihlus scolded Saren, who managed a protesting rasp from behind the oxygen mask. "It's scientific FACT, not lies and propaganda. So since you are being such a child, you are going to bear it!"

He looked up at Shepard.

"Just how trained are you at long distance running?"

"I've done some marathons for charity. Nothing professional."

"Spirits. Marathons. Are you comprehending your foolishness, Saren?"

Saren didn't answer.

"Shepard, if you want a turian to cover that sort of distance, you need to schedule naps. That's the way it is."

"Oh."

They got Saren into bed by Shepard levitating him. Nihlus left some protien drinks on the nightstand, scolded one more time, and ushered Shepard out after syncing their omnitools.

"He's going to be absolutely intolerable," Nihlus declared.

"More than usual?"

"He's bedridden. You're the on call nurse."

"Huh."

Shepard shrugged after a moment.

"Fine. Fine, it is what it is. Bedpans don't scare me."

"You are also intolerable, you know that?" Nihlus quirked a browplate. "All that can do optimism."

"Pssh. Go on, Nihlus. I know you have actual business besides running over here when I hit the panic button."

So she was the nurse. Saren pinged her omnitool early the next morning. He was so sore that he couldn't move and he was made further cranky from a full bladder. Shepard levitated him once more and floated him to the bathroom. Fortunately, the toilet was in a separate enclosure with a door. Saren didn't have the grace to resist grumbling at her as she struggled with figuring out how to undo his pants. Finally, she succeeded, set him on the toilet, shut the door on him, and began to brush to her teeth.

Saren pinged her when he was finished.

He recoiled when he saw a businesslike expression on her face.

"I have an idea on how to help!" she announced cheerfully.

"No. Don't-"

She snatched him into the air again and it hurt to struggle as she stripped him down and hovered him over the hot tub.

"Stop panicking. I'm not planning to drown you," she admonished him as she felt him flaring out his field reflexively.

She lowered him in at a sitting position and activated the jets. He looked so gobsmacked that she chuckled. The water looked pretty inviting, so she left for a moment to get her swimsuit.

Saren would've remained cranky on principle and further annoyed by the ease that Shepard was toying with him with her biotics, but the warm pulse of water on his muscles was just too much relief after an ill sleep. He'd achieved a modicum of relaxation when Shepard returned. He opened his eyes just as she was stepping in and saw her in a bikini.

He explained away the moment of illicit thrill racing up and down his spine at the sight of her bare midsection as the side effect of a head injury.

He closed his eyes. Shepard leaned back into the water jets. After a while, she could hear over the churn of water that Saren was purring. Hah, she grinned to herself. It was a good idea after all! Too bad he wouldn't admit it. She rested, until her skin started to show pruning.

"Saren, it's time to stop."

She got up and he casually turned his head away from her. She dried off first before lifting him into the air again. She had a fresh towel and started to dry him.

She looked at him in question when he made a distressed noise in his chest.

"... Just get on with it," he snapped.

Saren disliked that he was suddenly in a predicament; the water had lulled him into inattention. He had lost his equilibrium; he was vulnerable, weakened, and currently getting toweled off by a woman who was in possession of an unfairly shapely waist.

The saving factor was how efficiently Shepard dried him.

She then gathered up his clothes and started to turn them right side out.

"Leave them off. They are troublesome at this time."

Shepard nodded and obeyed without argument, which was strange to him. She floated him out of the bathroom and set him back in bed. She went and got a spare bedsheet. He had to endure her fumbling until she figured out an arrangement for securing the sheet. In the end, the sheet was pulled from behind to the front, with two corners crossing over his keel, brought behind his neck and tied. It suited him in that he was sufficiently covered and with no obstructing fastenings. Shepard privately thought that it was hilarious to see Saren in essentially a halter dress.

She took him to the dining room for breakfast. He sniffed suspiciously at the kava she set before him. She listened well to Nihlus and in the end he had no complaints. She made toast and coffee for herself. Saren gave her a begrudging look of curiosity when she put a plate down in front of him.

In the dextro section of the pantry, she found jars of roe and spooned it out on little rounds of flat bread.

"Is this okay? I remember seeing something like this served at a Council state function."

"Decadent for breakfast," Saren said. "But it's so simple no imbecile could mess up. It will do."

They did not speak further. Saren found that the roe was fine, bursting delightfully over his tongue, and he enjoyed his unconventional breakfast.

At his direction, she left him reclining on the couch, with the catalog of reading material. She went to the workout room. Later, they had lunch. Shepard used the flat bread again, this time finding actual spreads for it. One jar of stuff smelled worse than marmite, in her opinion. The refrigerator yielded some dextro eggs that she could scramble. He wanted to sun afterwards. Shepard read.

Dinner was another exercise in improvisation. More scrambled eggs, juice, and for variety, she found a bag of soft gelatin candies for him.

He frowned with disapproval, but Shepard would not hear of it, electing to set him back onto the couch and taking the free spot at the other end, to find out what was available to entertain them on the vidscreen while they ate dinner.

In the end, they watched a salarian sport that neither of them knew the rules for, until they were too sleepy. She conveyed him back into his bed, adjusted his covers to his direction, and took her leave.

In truth, Saren was prepared to endure humiliation from Shepard, not just the pains of his body. It would be easy for her to neglect him and cause him suffering. Or worse, to acerbate it and rub in his helplessness and defeat. Her behavior confused him. He did not expect her to fully take on his care; she was an uncomplaining servant to his needs. There was no trace of irritating human pride in her actions or words.

That only increased his suspicions.

He took it as her being more cunning, waiting for a chance to inflict hurt later. It was exhausting; the next day was the same in that she cared for him first, eased his aches first, put his meals before her own. His shifts from relieved pleasure to watchful distrust took more energy from him that he rationally knew could be put to better use recuperating.

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

The evening after that, after dinner and once again on the couch, Shepard noticed that Saren was clenching his mandibles as he shifted his legs, trying to find some position that afforded the least amount of pain.

She caught his gaze so that he would not be taken by surprise, and took a bare foot in her hands. The first firm press of her fingers had him sighing, and as she went on, experimenting and seeking out where she could soothe him, he could do nothing, nothing at all but give up and just feel. He didn't have the presence of mind to even care that he was purring, loudly and unreservedly. He might've snapped at her if she made a quizzical look or comment. She kept her eyes on the game on the vidscreen instead.

Shepard preferred to have him distracted, of course. When he was alert, the atmosphere of the safehouse soured. In the times when he had no need of her presence, sunning and brooding, she kept her workouts on, building ramparts in preparation for the storm of his biotics and temper once his legs obeyed him again.

She continued to experiment with dextro cooking, and he found her giving him meals with unexpected richness or sweetness. She hit upon unexpected combinations, such as delicately sliced raw fillet of dextro fishes, blue and purple tinged flesh dipped in sauces and garnished with spicy herbs usually reserved for curries or stews. He called her an idiot for that, despite eating every last piece and then licking the plate when her back was turned. She just rolled her eyes at his sniping and gave him more candy.

He developed a habit despite himself; after dinner, while she watched some sport or another, he'd park his feet on her lap. Besides this, he would not look at her. Occasionally he would make biting comment about the game on screen, which amused her. When she spent longer than he liked channel surfing instead of tending to his feet, he would start to fidget, wiggling his toes. Shepard would smile, he'd make half-hearted grumbling sounds that quickly turned into more purring when she got to work, and he'd sink into the couch cushions.

Saren would doze in the solarium and his thoughts were no longer heavy with suspicion. He remembered histories and stories about ancient Palavan, some recited to him in Desolas' particular cadence. Did any of those long ago warlords or princes know of such indulgence? When they earned respite from battle, did they know anything comparable to this, being floated lightly, gently, from pleasure to pleasure, unmindful of anything but the next drop of sweetness on the tongue, the brush of fingers across bare hide? He was under investigation, how could he let himself be so distracted? He needed to think on his next moves, of seeing to how he could salvage the situation, but... Later. Later, now it's time for lunch, there's the aroma of a tisane and Shepard has just lifted him up into the air again.

He finally asks how she came to best him that first time, by what teachers did she come by those techniques. She candidly revealed that the biotic techniques based on the asari canon had inspired people who were aficionados of certain ancient martial arts. Fanciful concepts from legend and tradition could now perhaps be made real. That thousands of years of asari biotic standardization were for a reason did not stop the humans who dreamed.

"The first is called "Crashing Waves". It mimics the motion of objects caught by wave movements, a curling motion that returns with force onto the shore after pulling away. I didn't really get it until a bunch of us got some surfing lessons, for the feel."

Saren commented that he personally was not interested in direct experience of it in order to mimic it. Shepard nodded in understanding.

"The second is called "Embracing Serpent". There are schools of kung fu that mimic animal movement. This was one of the successful applications."

The move attuned the user to the breathing of their target and they would mimic the practice of constricting predators on their prey, applying increasing pressure with every exhale.

"It's a slow process and leaves you open to flanking attacks. It's a very niche choice to make."

Of course, that leads to them discussing under what circumstances such a move could be best utilized. Her tactics were different and she was cunning. It was refreshing to Saren to have such a conversation at all; too long had he been alone during and after missions, cut off from others.

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

They were sparring.

Their fields bounced and sparked on contact and her hands parted the air like falling leaves. She comprehended every move for advantage he chose and countered with ones of her own, swift and perilous. Glorious.

Catching her by hard grasping of his claws was as futile as gripping flowing water. He adjusted and moved to cup, to encircle. Finally, finally he has her and spins with her onto the ground. Quick, quick the way his ancestors knew to do and she has no carapace to prevent him from fully bearing his weight down on her back with his keel. She makes a short blurt of surprise once he gets her ankles locked under his spurs and he parts her thighs with another instinctual movement. She uses no words. She struggles and there is a feeling of alarm that skitters from her field into his awareness and he trembles.

"Fierce one," he murmurs, pressing a mandible against her cheek. "Fierce one."

She seems receptive to his praise of her and he thrums from it.

"Okay. You win this round," she concedes, her breath huffing.

"I desire you," Saren declares.

He doesn't like it when she laughs.

"You do not."

"Shepard," he tries to keep his tones soft. "Fierce one."

Now was not the time to be proud. He is unused to being a suitor, but even he knows that this is how to do it, that you had to assure a woman of esteem and intent.

She sighs and it is not the sigh of prelude, of desire. She is annoyed.

"You don't need to make fun of me."

No, this isn't how it's supposed to go-

He rolls his hips, not caring to continue hiding his eagerness, pressing it against her.

"Is this sincere enough for you?" he asks as he rubs on her.

She's so soft! The rise of her buttocks are an unexpected treat and he enmeshes his field with hers, thrumming, fluttering his mandibles against her.

"Saren," she says. "Oh..."

Her field attunes with his, he feels her pulse racing as his own races for her and when he joins with her it's so- so-

Awareness slices into him with cold mercilessness.

"NO!"

His fist slams down hard onto the mattress as he snarls and his other hand closes over his cock. Desperately he keeps his eyes closed, racing against total consciousness- her hair, her scent, her voice gasping, pleas, not yet, not yet, more, more, more-!

He spills in his hand. And that makes him livid.

Anger gives new strength to his limbs. He struggles to his feet and drags himself ungracefully into the bathroom. He hisses with the effort it takes to lower himself into the hot tub. Some part of him notes that a shower would be easier but he ignores it. It hurts. He sits and activates the water jets.

His heart beats quickly still and he is not done.

He turns a little to a different angle to the jets, moaning at the sensations they cause on his waist. Like that, her fingers there, like that, and he touches himself. He could see her, working on his feet, making her way up, undressing him while he reclines and then, like what was whispered and speculated about in bars and barracks, she lowers her mouth on him-

He loses his seat as he spends in the water, slipping down, his head submerging. He struggles upright after that impromptu baptism, coughing.

"Saren?"

He freezes.

"Oh! You're in the hot tub! By yourself!" she walks in. "You must be feeling better!"

He looks down at the water.

"Not all the way," he finally says.

He feigns a lingering ache and limp and curses himself for the impulse. By habit Shepard dries him off and he has to struggle to keep his seam from parting for her. She's so near.

"Thank you."

Her eyes widen for a moment before she smiles.

Ah, Saren doesn't retreat from his truth, I am conquered.

As he sat and watched her in the kitchen putting together his cup of kava, thrilling agony, completely unlike the past torment from his lungs and legs bloomed in him. When he thanks her again, her eyes brightened and when he drank of that kava she had made it was like swallowing poison knowingly. It would work deep inside him, warping his thoughts, corrupting his senses, and he continued to sip it; thirsty, parched, seeking annihilation.

tbc


	5. Chapter 5

It was then that he asked her to teach him the new, human created biotic skills. In return, whatever she wanted to learn about the craft of being a Spectre from him, he would endeavor with all effort to teach her. She startled, but then looked thoughtful, considering what she should say.

"May I consider your offer?" she finally asked.

"Please, do."

She thinks as she eats. Her victory over him was impressive. If he had not intended to kill her that first day, at the least he meant real harm. And unlike others, he was one used to the freedom to do as he wished, to execute whoever he wanted by his own hand. She cannot put all faith in the idea that her skill alone would be worth so much to him that he would take her on as a student in exchange. It would mean traveling together on missions, if his status as Spectre was not revoked. Was he as serious as that? Once, it would be easy to say no, that he could not possibly tolerate that, let alone welcome it. Now, after living with him, the conclusions did not come immediately. It was a puzzle.

He goes to the workout room with her. While she jogs, he walks a circle around the room, resting often. She keeps alert, ready to assist in any way. He makes no indication that he is in more pain from the exercise.

During lunch, he goes to the pantry. He comes back with a bag in his hands and he looks smug. Shepard realizes that somehow she has ceased to find that particular expression from him very annoying.

"What do you have there?"

He opens the bag and places it on the counter.

"It's chocolate. Levo chocolate."

"Now how did I miss those?"

She reaches for one and is surprised when he stops her by putting his hand over the bag.

"I found it. It's mine."

She raises a brow at him.

"Yours, huh?"

"Yes. But if you want one, I could reconsider, if-"

Oh. Back to asshole time, Shepard crossed her arms, waiting.

"you pay the toll," Saren concluded.

"A toll, you say?"

"I did."

"What's the toll?"

"Give me a kiss."

Shepard sputtered.

"Seriously?"

Saren's mandibles flared. Smugly.

"Well. Maybe I don't feel like any chocolate. How about that?" she resumed putting together a burrito for herself.

"It's good chocolate," Saren asserted.

"And how would you know?"

"Everything else here has been good. You want some. I have it, and I just ask for a little, insignificant thing from you."

He must have found her giving him the gimlet eye amusing, as he actually made a little laugh. Shepard looked at the bag of chocolates. She looked at him. The idea that after whipping him in a biotic duel and literally running him to the ground, that THIS was where he beat her was ridiculous. Impossible.

So she put her completed burrito on a plate, poured herself a drink, and stepped up to him, tilting her head back to stare at him, her expression mutinous.

She was surprised to see that as nonchalant as he tried to look, his mandibles were quivering. Aha. So he didn't expect her to rise to the challenge! She stood there, letting him stew for a little longer.

"I do like chocolate," she finally said.

She rises up on her toes, puts her hands on his shoulders. She feels his hands coming up and resting on her back. She sees him blinking rapidly right before she kisses him quickly on the upper lip plates.

"Mwah!"

He looks... well. Not happy, not unhappy, just... confused. Shepard laughs and picks up a piece of chocolate wrapped in tin foil.

"I paid the toll after all," she grins.

"Are you just going to settle for one?" he finally says.

Shepard shrugs and the way that he's actually flushing light blue at the neck was fascinating. Was that all because of her? Wow. She didn't see that coming.

"I wouldn't want to spoil my appetite," she hedged, still smiling.

His wordless mandible flutter was hopeful. Adorable, even, and that was weird because this is Saren. The Terminus Executioner.

"I'll have this," she held up the chocolate. "for dessert. I'll let you know if I want more."

"That's not unreasonable."

His hands remain on her back, though. She quirked her eyebrows. That smug expression was back on his face. Oh. He's waiting for me to make a fuss about the touching, she thought.

"So..."

Some inspired impulse caused her to smooth her palms on his bare shoulders, before running the tips of her fingers along the rim of his cowl, and ending with her just barely holding on, framing his keel. She wasn't sure of exactly what kind of response she was looking for, but more mandible shivering and a deeper vibrating noise from his chest was pretty gratifying.

"... Yes?" he was staring at her hands.

"I'd like to have my lunch," Shepard pushed on his cowl and stepped back. "You should have yours too, before it gets cold."

Saren looks at the offered plate like that's the last thing he wants, and about to reject it out of pique, but he simply cannot refuse any of her cooking efforts. He takes it to the table. His presence distracts Shepard from really analyzing what just happened, what it even was that they were doing. He voices approval and appreciation for her making him lunch for the first time and she likes it. It's a statement about how normally remote and forbidding Saren is that the simple act of being polite makes him charming.

She finally unwraps the chocolate from the tin foil, moving very slowly to find out his reaction; he only makes a scoffing noise of impatience when she meticulously smoothed the wrapping flat on the table. She pops chocolate in her mouth and instead of chewing it into pieces, decides to go with slowness again and to let it melt on her tongue.

It was a revelation.

Nobody had ever told her that there was a right way to eat chocolate. She treated it like any other candy before. But here, dark flavor was blooming, the melting created a thick, luxurious texture, and she discovered a nougat center and that was yum... She swallowed, eyes closed.

"Hmm," she said.

"Hmm...?" Saren tilted his head, anxious about her verdict.

She didn't answer directly, instead, she looked over her shoulder at the bag of chocolate on the counter. Saren didn't do fetching. However, if she wanted more and it would please her... He made an arcing gesture in the air with his fingers and levitated the bag, bringing it to the table.

"You approve."

"Yep."

Shepard got up and went to him. She put a hand out, lightly touching his cheek. His mandibles started shivering again. She bent down, close to an ear.

"Definitely worth a kiss. A proper one."

Blame it on the chocolate. Temporary insanity. She brushed her lips slowly over the hard line of his lip plates, a firmer press than before. His hide warmed noticeably under her hand and he made a low, helpless sound, so out of character, as he tried to follow her, to kiss her back. Shepard didn't think she would really enjoy kissing Saren. Besides the whole, not a regular practice with his species, the man wasn't the most welcoming character in her acquaintance.

But this was really good. She had to step back before she escalated by introducing her tongue into the equation. She wasn't ready for finding out how she would respond if he turned out to have knack for that.

Saren swallowed, willing his mandibles still. He had understood theoretically that kisses were affectionate. Intimate, under certain circumstances. The first kiss left him feeling nothing like he had hoped it would. But this last one had him warm from eagerness and the difference between the two was as vast as a mother's love tap on her child's forehead to the purposeful slide and press between lovers.

He had no more words. He could only pick up a chocolate and offer it to her.

She took it, made a breathy murmur of thanks that had him squirming and tested his patience again by unwrapping it as if it were a bomb about to go off. She was once again transported off in a moment of silent pleasure. He waited.

She smiled at him and left him sitting alone. Saren sighed. He wanted to follow her, to further press his suit. Patience wasn't usual practice for him. But he had promised to let her think. And he was going to keep his word.

Shepard had only one person to turn to with her questions. She called Nihlus.

tbc


	6. Chapter 6

Nihlus wasn't sure what to expect when he went to the safehouse. Weeks of silence was unnerving; for all anybody knew, the two of them succeeded in killing each other. So it was a relief to see Shepard at the door.

She lead him towards the kitchen. He had to pass through the living room to do it and he saw Saren there.

It was strange. He was sprawled out on the couch, with multiple pillows arranged just so. He wasn't fully dressed; was that a bedsheet? Furthermore, when Nihlus greeted him, he only opened his eyes, gave him the impression that moving in any capacity was just not going to happen, and closed his eyes again. He actually yawned.

Shepard laughed a little at Nihlus' confounded expression. He found a seat and she offered him a drink and snacks.

"How are you? How is he?"

"Different," Shepard took a bite of cookie.

"That's a total understatement. What did you do? Are we going to find out that he's developed a dependency on painkillers after you oh so craftily injured him?"

"Oh, stop. He hasn't even been given alcohol," Shepard snorted.

"Well, excuse me for assuming that Saren on the couch in nothing but a bedsheet was the result of some chemical manipulation."

Shepard cleared her throat.

"He wants to learn biotics from me. He wants to teach me. We kissed."

Nihlus had to put his cup down. Shepard looked at him, hoping that he would have answers.

"Nihlus, I don't know what to do."

"Can you tell me about it from the beginning?" he suggested.

So she did. He was attentive as she spoke of Saren's strange change in mood, their flirtation with the chocolate, all of it.

"He likes you," Nihlus said simply.

"I get that. But."

"But?"

"I don't know if he actually likes me or if it's some turian variant of Stockholm Syndrome."

Nihlus coughed.

"That's a valid worry. But from my point of view, it's easy to see why he would be. You did beat him twice in a row, you're not afraid of him, and you are just... so kind. He hasn't had very many people be genuinely kind to him," Nihlus sipped his drink. "Or, he could just have a hot nurse fetish. I think that's much more interesting."

Shepard laughed and then grumbled.

"What? I can totally see where the appeal is. Getting bossed around in the name of health, frequent sponge baths. You do give him those, right?"

He waggled his browplates and Shepard laughed again.

"Stop that."

"You are turning pink. I'm on the right trail. Come on, what do you do to him?"

Shepard shook her head.

"Come on-"

"Nihlus!" she snapped.

"And there's that. You give good bossy," he snickered. "Spirits know when the last time he's had any of that good bossy directed at him. Most people are too afraid."

Shepard chose to get back on topic.

"Sometimes, when he tones down the ice queen act-"

Nihlus snickered.

"he's not that bad. And he is one of the best Spectres around, for what it's worth."

"He's impressed with you and you are impressed with him. It could be worse."

"Oh, I bet. He could be the one."

"Shepard?" Nihlus blinked.

"The Big Mistake. It's supposed to happen at least once to every woman. Movies and tv shows make a big deal about the Big Mistake. He fits the casting. Dangerous, sexy, probably emotionally unavailable, and usually hates his mother. The sex will be awesome, the fights epic, and in the end I'll end up on your doorstep crying my eyes out. Very dramatic."

Nihlus was unsure what Saren's opinion about his mother had to do with anything.

"That could also explain why he's toned down around you. He knows."

"Hm?"

"As honored and famous as he is, he's not a hot commodity on the marriage market."

Barefaced, biotic, from a storied but troubled family, short tempered and with a taste for revenge, and a disturbing tendency to excuse all of his actions with the phrase "Spectre business; classified. No comment". No, Nihlus could not say that any sane parents would be overjoyed at potential introductions.

"He can act like he doesn't care about that as much as he wants, but nobody likes... not having that hope of maybe belonging to somebody someday. He's alone. Since Desolas, he's always alone. It's part of why everything he does looks so suspicious."

Shepard was about to ask on the nuances about his standing in turian culture, when her omnitool chimed. She glanced down.

"He wants cookies."

"He wants you to stop paying attention to me," Nihlus grinned. "I can't believe he's become so obvious. He must be completely crazy about you."

Shepard went to fill up a plate for Saren.

"Shepard, there's nothing wrong with trying him out, find out how physically compatible you are to get the full picture before deciding."

Shepard rolled her eyes at Nihlus' typical turian frankness.

"That's it? All I'm getting for advice?"

"You have everything else handled," Nihlus grinned. "The threat of biotics, bullets, or poisoning his cookies will keep him in line. So he wants to go on missions with you, learn biotics from you, get nursed by you, share meals. At the least he could provide some orgasms to you in the bargain. I'm just saying."

Nihlus ducked the crumpled up napkin she threw at him. The both of them walked back to the living room.

"Do you have word on when an actual verdict will be reached?" Saren asked Nihlus.

"I do not. You know I will let you know as soon as I do."

Saren didn't snap at Nihlus for not giving him an useful answer. He just chose a cookie and took a bite. Nihlus grinned, said his goodbyes, and left.

tbc


	7. Chapter 7

That evening, they ate dinner while watching the vidscreen, as usual. When they were done, Saren resumed his now customary reclining. Instead of extending his feet to her, however, he took out the bag of chocolates from where he had hid it amongst the sofa cushions.

"Do you want dessert?"

"Sure."

It takes a moment, where she maneuvers between the couch cushions and against him, nestling into place. He dips his head and they kiss again. She starts to elude him, slipping away to press the tips of his mandible prongs between her lips, sliding her tongue on them, making him sigh and thrum. When she kisses her way back to his mouth she gradually presses her tongue against his. He lets out a gust of breath from his nose at the new sensation. She lingers deliciously, before releasing him and laying back on the cushions.

He gives her a chocolate. He watches, seduced by her through it, finding temptation in the way she slowly unwraps it, the anticipatory smile she has while looking at it, and the way her lips close over it. And there, when she gains pleasure from the taste, he is envious; he wants to make her look just as pleased.

The vidfeed is forgotten background noise.

Another kiss bestowed, another chocolate rewarded.

The third time, she feels his hand, which was on her shoulder, slipping downwards and softly resting on her breast. Excitement warms her kisses even more and she arches into his hand.

"Like that?"

"Yes."

He does the best he can over her clothes, until she lifts her shirt up and and undoes her bra. Their snug positions on the sofa mean that he can't see what he's doing, not while kissing her. He carefully, blindly feels her, encountering her nipple and gently circles it with one finger until it hardens. She makes a sound and it's good. He takes it between his thumb and first finger, just playing with it and she shifts, deepening her kisses.

He breathes deeply while she eats the chocolate. He wants more and he nudges the prongs of a mandible against her collarbone, hopeful. Does she understand?

It's easy for Shepard to lift the folds of the bedsheet aside and to knead at his waist, more firmly than she would for toweling him dry and he arches, purring, thrumming, heating up. He's normally so still and composed that seeing him like this, already abandoning himself, is thrilling. She notices movement at the corner of her eye; there's movement at his seam, the plates are parting, but she does not stop kissing him. Saren makes a full body undulation and the last roll of his hips has his cock sliding out.

She looks at it, reaching out and softly running her finger over it, following the ridges and Saren inhales. She's murmuring into his neck as she wraps her fingers around him. Something about needing to talk after she makes him come. He says yes to everything because he's too far gone to think straight. Her hand slides so easily, and he asks her to grip harder, faster, please, yes, he's almost- almost-

He's silent when he comes. Somehow, Shepard is not surprised that he would be. What does surprise her is that after, he takes her by the wrist, bringing her hand up to his mouth and gently, meticulously licks her fingers clean. He leans in and licks her neck once with that same delicacy.

"Thank you," he says.

When she tells him that she wants to go with him and take him up on his offer, he is glad. She then tells him that it is an entirely different issue for her to accept his courting.

"What is it?"

She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.

"It's probably not a good idea, honestly. Just because it feels good, doesn't mean that we suit."

"Shepard."

He puts his hand over hers.

"Aren't we suiting now?"

He's not just tolerating her anymore, can't she tell? He wants. Why else would he even start?

"I desire you," he gives voice to his dream. "Everything about you."

She smiles and leans her head against his shoulder, distractingly tracing her fingers over his palm.

"You have such a way of saying things," she sighs. "It's very convincing."

"Have I convinced you?"

"I'm having fewer reservations," Shepard laces her fingers around his.

"Few enough to stay the night with me?"

She lifts her head to look at him. He looks back, expectant. Nothing was gained by simply not asking.

"I actually want to just sleep."

"That's fine."

And it was. Saren had not considered it before; he was not in the habit of simply sleeping with someone. He stayed awake for a while after she went to sleep. Her breathing was a soft, distinct new noise in the room and occasionally she cleared her nose. Before, it would be irritating. But here she was, presenting the reality of being with her to him and he would not be ungrateful. He settled in and after a moment of hesitation, reached out and draped one arm over her before closing his eyes.

tbc


	8. Chapter 8

Shepard wakes the next morning to the sensation of Saren lightly rolling one of her nipples between his fingers. He stops when she stretches.

"Sleep well?" he asks.

Shepard laughs a little; he is so polite, as if he isn't cupping one of her breasts.

"How long have you been doing that?"

"A while. I was beginning to wonder if you would wake up at all."

Shepard knows by now that in his usual tone of voice that sentence would be accusatory. Snide. He had the knack, above and beyond many other turians in her acquaintance, of radiating disapproval with every word. Here, now, it's a game because he's relaxed and having fun. What's more, he's having fun with her.

She reaches down under the covers and slips her panties down.

She places her hand over his and guides it down. She doesn't miss the inhale or the flush at his neck as he realizes how wet she is.

He moves with care, with Shepard letting him know how well she likes it in the languidness of her expression and the rolling of her hips. There is an early morning ease to this that is nothing like his dream, without the rise of adrenaline and the challenge of pitting their strength against each other. He finds he likes this as well, the quiet deepening of her breaths, the minute movements of her brows, the blush on her cheeks, the parting of her lips. She moves well and freely under his hand and he purrs when she comes.

She makes a small cry when he ducks his head under the covers, finding a nipple with his tongue. Her scent surrounds him, embedded into his covers and it's a wonderful cocoon. He doesn't need to see. He's seen her often enough over the past weeks in the hot tub. He wants to feel and he does, fondling her, licking and nuzzling. Shepard laughs and sighs, closing her eyes and enjoying the difference that is Saren's body, the wet softness of his tongue contrasting with the hot roughness of his plates.

He emerges finally, having straddled her. He thrums and kisses her.

"Will you let me have you?"

"How do you want me?" Shepard pets his neck.

He guides her onto her stomach. He pets her back, palms the fullness of her buttocks with his hands and murmurs the most pertinent details of his dream to her. She arches against him and he groans, pressing his keel on her. She turns her head and they kiss and he's become unsteady, indiscriminately rubbing on her, overwhelmed by how much like and yet so much better this was compared to his dream. He gets her ankles securely under his spurs, twitching her thighs apart and her little cry when he slides in is sublime.

He has just enough presence of mind to extend his biotic field out to her. She does the same and they sync, now he feels her pulse and reverberating feedback in his temples showing him that every thrust gives her pleasure. It's not embracing eternity the way asari do it; they can go deeper, make the sharing of senses more complete, but this is good enough, spirits, yes, it's so good-

Saren goes still above her and Shepard bites her lip when she feels that last bucking surge. He lets out a sated exhale before leaning down to nuzzle at her while disengaging.

She rears up, grabbing hold of his cowl and pushes him back onto the bed.

"More," she demands, testing his mood. "You can go again."

Saren blinks in surprise before he thrums, pleased.

"Yes!"

They kiss again and she moves to straddle him when he's ready for her. She strokes him, watching how his mandibles go slack and his eyes struggle to stay open. She rises up, holding him, rubbing just the tip against her. He makes the loveliest growling, pleading sound. She licks her lips and pushes him again.

"Whose dick is this? Answer me," she bares her teeth.

Saren's mandibles flare and he shows his teeth back at her, growling louder, but he makes no move, his hold on her hips don't hurt and he's not pushing her away.

"Whose dick is this," Shepard gives him a little downstroke with her hand. "Say it!"

"Nnnnngh- Yours! All yours, it's all yours-"

"Damn right it is!"

She braced herself on his cowl and thrashed him hard, riding out his bucking, daring him to outlast her. It was perfect torture. She ground down on him, coming, and his toes curled when she let out a satisfied laugh that clutched all around him. Just as he was on the brink, she rose up and let cold air hit him.

He snarled, clutching hard on her hips.

"Please," he's desperate, licking at her breasts, she's not letting him and he's going mad- "I'm begging, you have me, Shepard- Shepard- Fierce one-"

"You may," Shepard smiles, her field enveloping and sparking on him.

He plunges back in with a howl and pushes her backwards, bringing her legs up so that he can have all the leverage. They've kicked the covers off the bed with their efforts and the sight of her, all of her, of his cock parting her, those obscene wet sucking sounds with every thrust, it's dirty and perfect and fuck- FUCK-!

They lay, joined, breathing hard, until Shepard winces from their position and they carefully come apart. Saren isn't tired. He feels heady and alive. He purrs, kissing her and her slow, sated movements give him immense gratification.

"Wait here."

He goes to get the first aid kit and finds something for her skin, spreading it over her gently. She sighs with relief and he tells her to rest. She dozes and when he comes back, she sees that he has a plate of toast and a little jar of jam and some butter for her.

"Saren," she sits up, surprised.

"I'll learn more. But this, I can manage right now."

"Thank you."

Those days couldn't last. Saren hoards them in his memory, every smile he gets from his efforts to cook for her, touching her, kissing her, conversing with her, the light push and pull of their biotic fields syncing.

After Desolas' passing, he had Duty as his only reason for being and he had not known how lacking it was for his spirit, especially compared to her. He doesn't regret anything that he has done. But he sees now how reckless it was to leave himself so open to censure.

So when Nihlus brings summons from the Council, he goes and bears the questioning with equanimity. It helps that the Council wants to believe in him, they want to have him on the roster, they want very much to be proven wrong about him. He admits that he was immoderate. He further admits, to their surprise, that he would make efforts to be cooperative to the spirit of the Spectres as a whole by choosing to partner on missions. He needed to learn, he stated. And towards that, he would be partnering with Spectre Shepard.

They let him. Of course. How could they not?

Shepard tempered him, kept him from immediately going after those who moved against him. For the two of them, they would be learning to work together in the field and going into deep investigation, instead of, as she noted, his predilection of blowing things up wholesale.

They hit upon something. Prothean artifacts used to be traded as objects of curiosity in the arts markets. All of a sudden, they were being moved in the more illicit black markets in systems that did not have the idle rich. There was chatter coming from the Migrant Fleet that there were actual geth sightings. And as other Spectres were watching Saren make moves, he found others were also leaving traces of their own activities behind once he stopped and started observing the way Shepard wanted. It was curious.

"Nihlus wants to make moves for Eden Prime. An actual beacon's turned up."

"We'll meet him, then. He's been tapped as an evaluator for that joint human-turian ship development project, hasn't he?"

"Yeah. Want to see that shiny new tech?"

"Why not? He's been gloating like a child with a new toy about it. I want to see it for myself."

They set course for Eden Prime together.

finis


End file.
